


The Gift of My Past Mistakes

by Aubrie1234



Series: Sapphire & Jasper [3]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, The Secret Saturdays
Genre: Dylan's actually very important to this, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Scorpia doesn't give up, Weddings, wedding crashers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-03-09 19:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aubrie1234/pseuds/Aubrie1234
Summary: After thirteen years, they were finally having their wedding. They were going to have it and tie the knot and nothing was going to stop them, nothing! Except maybe a few more secrets, a boy named Dylan, and tons of revenge and insanity. Alex and Doyle wished they could get a break for once.





	1. Into the Jungle

Drew was not happy to have her birthday pass and no wedding plans in the slightest. Alex found it a little ironic that their getaway to work on said wedding had yielded nothing of the sort. Doc tried to keep his wife from pestering the two about it. Francis was still trying to get Zak to like his music, which was slowly working. Komodo had made peace with Alex, despite there not being any true fight in the first place. Fisk and Zon were bothered by none of this.

Doyle, however, had something big on his mind, and it wasn't the wedding. He was on his laptop continuously, typing away, and checked the calendar a lot. As January turned into February and Valentine's Day (and his birthday) came closer, Alex frowned at his behavior. It began to worry the blond about what Doyle was doing, but when he asked, Doyle would change the subject or distract Alex with something else. There were supposed to be no more secrets. What was Doyle doing?

"Doyle?" Alex tried to look over the redhead's shoulder and see what he was doing, but Doyle wouldn't let him look. They were in their bedroom and in Alex's hands was a pad of paper and a pencil. He was trying to come up with details about the wedding and thought this would also be a good time to look into what Doyle could be hiding.

"What?" asked the ex-mercenary, glancing up from his laptop before focusing on it again.

"Any idea of when the wedding should be?" Doyle shrugged.

"Any time or place is fine with me, just as long as it has some meaning to the both of us." Alex wrote it down.

"Anywhere you explicitly  _don't_  wanna go?"

"Cornwall and New York City." This caused Alex to raise his eyebrows.

"Why not New York?"

"Because of what we had." Doyle glanced up to meet Alex's eyes, "We can't get that back and I went back there after you. It's...it's too hurtful to return." Alex nodded.

"I understand." He marked off the place, "Not Oslo, we were just there, so where else?"

"Dunno." Doyle shrugged again. Alex frowned.

"Well, why don't you give me a little more attention and tell me what you really think for once?" This caused Doyle to raise his head, surprised.

"What? Of course I-"

"No, you're not. You haven't been fully in this conversation the whole time. What have you been doing on your computer lately that's been taking up so much time and attention?" Doyle frowned.

"It's none of your business, Al." Alex crossed his arms.

"Unless it's something sensitive, I think it is." Doyle rolled his eyes.

"It's nothing, I swear. You just need to stop being jealous." Alex raised an eyebrow.

" _Jealous_? I'm not jealous!"

"Overprotective, then." Doyle turned back to his laptop, "I'm not flirting with someone online, okay? This is something sensitive to me that you don't need to know about." Alex glared.

"Fine." He tucked the paper pad into his pocket and put the pencil behind his ear, "I'm going to go beat your nephews in a few video games. Come find me if you want to plan the damn wedding." And with that, Alex got up and left the room. Usually he'd just leave things be, but with how much time Doyle was spending on the computer and not much else, it was wearing on his patience. Doyle sighed and shook his head. He was almost done, if Alex would've only given him a few more minutes. As it was, he took out his sat phone and dialed a number, letting it rest on his shoulder as he continued to type.

"Hello?..Hey, it's Doyle. I wanted to ask about our deal...It's still on? Good...No, I can't do it just yet, but I'll be there in about, maybe two weeks?..Yeah, I know. I'm not falling back on this promise...Thank you. Goodbye." He hung up and rubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired right now, but things were almost done. He was almost ready to get his son back and he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have this chance. He could finally give Dylan a home, even if it wasn't their permanent one, not just yet.

And he still had to tell everyone else about Dylan. He wasn't looking forward to that talk. Fisk only knew part of it, but at least he hadn't told anyone about it yet. However, Doyle had no choice but to share it, otherwise everyone would try to find out for themselves and he didn't want them to do that. He was freaky enough already with the whole 'Kur' thing, he didn't need them to know his deepest secret, not just yet. He still wasn't ready.

"Just a little longer." he whispered, closing his laptop, "I'm not giving up on you."

* * *

_Van Rook came into the room with a steaming bowl of something the redhead didn't know, but it smelled delicious. He gave Doyle the bowl before sitting beside him on the couch, though he was a seat over to give the other some space. His mask was also off, which was rare for him to do willingly, but Doyle was grateful for it this time. It made him more human, more sympathetic._

_"That is_  солянка _, a type of soup." Van Rook said, "Eat some and tell me what happened."_

_"Why should I?" Doyle asked, staring down at the bowl, "Why should I tell you about something like this?"_

_"People who beat others to death must have a reason for their actions." At that, Doyle flinched and looked away._

_"...Promise not to tell anyone, okay?" the redhead pleaded quietly, "This is very important to me."_

_"I promise." Van Rook nodded. Doyle hesitated to tell him for a moment, then gave a sigh and began his tale._

_"It began several years ago, long before I met you. This guy saved my life and over the course of a year, where we lived in the same apartment, I fell hard for him. We even got engaged, but it wasn't to last. One morning, he was gone and left me a note. He was going to be gone for a few days doing things, but as the days went by, I began to feel that the note was a lie, that the guy just had me around for fun, that he didn't actually care about me. So, after two weeks, I left. And because he was the one that mainly supported us, I had to find a good job. I did a lot of things before you found me at that club and a lot of people tried to seduce me because they wanted my body." Doyle shivered, "And when I wouldn't comply, they tried to rape me. I try to hold some of my strength back so I wouldn't hurt them, but when they got to the sex part, touching me down_ there _, I suddenly get overwhelmed with fear and rage. I break free and ruthlessly kill them while escaping. My only guess of why I go crazy like that is because I don't want to be hurt again, not like the first time. And if I ever find someone else to love, I doubt that I'll be able to control that urge so I don't hurt them."_

_"I see." the Russian gently pat Doyle's back, stopping when the younger flinched at the touch, "It is not your fault."_

_"It kind of is. I can't control myself when it happens."_

_"Yes, but you are not the one who started it. It is the fault of the one who left you. He gave you the fear, so now you have to get over it."_

_"How?"_

_"I do not know. Perhaps you should go to counseling?" Doyle gave a bark of harsh laughter._

_"I tried. Last psychiatrist called the cops on me, so don't blame me if I don't want to go to therapy."_

_"Then maybe you should find ways to defend yourself besides brute force. Modify your gloves to give a small shock, perhaps?"_

_"That would be a great deterrent, so I might just do that." Doyle smiled, though it looked a bit fake, "Thanks for everything, Van Rook."_

_"Do not expect this treatment all the time, Blackwell. It was only this once."_

_"I know, but still. Thank you very much."_

_"..._ Пожалуйста _." Doyle could guess the meaning of the Russian word, but he didn't speak. He closed his eyes, grateful that he had someone to truly care about him as a person and not his body once again._

* * *

Zak and Francis knew better than to bother Alex when he was in such a mood as he was now, so it was surprising when he asked them to play video games with him, probably to help calm himself down. Zak, now out of his grounding, happily agreed and was joined by Fisk while Francis watched. He was never one to play such mindless games and so he was the first to notice when Doyle appeared at the door. The redhead leaned against the doorframe, observing how Alex was beating Fisk but no match for Zak and gave a small smile. And yet, his body language said that he had something to talk about, possibly what had sent Alex into his bad mood, and Francis wasn't sure he wanted to stick around for it.

"Hey." Well, it was too late to back out now. The players glanced over at Doyle before Alex frowned and looked away.

"Hey Uncle Doyle!" Zak greeted with a wave, as did Fisk.

"You finally ready to talk about wedding plans?" Alex grumbled.

"With you as mad as you are? I don't know. I only wanted to ask if you'd go to the Amazon with me tomorrow." This surprised everyone.

"The Amazon? As in the Amazon  _rainforest_?" Zak asked, "Why do you wanna go there?"

"A few reasons. And before you ask, no, you can't come."

"Aw!" Francis raised his eyebrows, surprised as this turn of events. Even he didn't know where this could be going.

"Why are you asking me to come with you?" was Alex's question.

"After I left you, I made a home in the rainforest and now I want to head back and grab some of the stuff that I left behind."

"How do you know it's still there?" Doyle shrugged.

"I don't, but I  _need_ to head back." He met Alex's eyes, "If you won't go with me, I can go myself. I just thought you might wanna see where I lived before I became a mercenary." Alex was quiet, contemplating, then gave a nod.

"Only if you'll finally work on our wedding plans."

"Deal." Doyle nodded back, "Wanna try working on it now?"

"After I finish this game." Alex said, "I'm gonna win."

"You wish!" "Erza buh!" Doyle chuckled and Francis shook his head as the three returned to the game, each determined to win.

* * *

_Flip. Flip. Flip._  File after file was looked through in the dark room, only lit by a bright lamp, showcasing cryptid after cryptid. Only two men were in the room, one standing as the other sat at the table, viewing the files.

"Well, sir?"

"This is good." The most recent file, on a Beast of Bowness, was closed with a flourish, "But someone will need to 'lead' this team and keep people from knowing what's really going on. We need something to cover our tracks."

"Do you have an idea, sir?"

"As always." He tapped his fingers, "Get me Alan Blunt's and the Gray Men's phone numbers and I need some techies to start working on forging some files."

"Yes sir." The standing man left the room. To the side of the table, a nameplate glinted, saying,  _Keith Ortega, Head of Torture_. A scorpion was stamped on the other side of the plate. His fingers tapped the table as he thought for a moment, then smiled in the darkness.

"The world won't know what hit it when everything's said and done." He gathered up the files and turned to a cabinet to put them away, "Certainly not Rider, Blackwell, or the Saturdays."

* * *

Doc was suspicious when he learned that Doyle was heading to the Amazon, wondering why he wanted to go there out of nowhere, but didn't know if he could ask. If he did, it might seem like he was trying to ruin Doyle's outing with Alex, but his common sense knew it wasn't the case. However, he didn't want to make an enemy of Doyle again, and so he tried to not ask. Drew was not bound by these questions and went ahead and asked her brother what the hell was going on just before he and Alex were to leave.

"Hey, it's not like I'm leaving for good, right?" Doyle said. He was met by his glaring sister and gave a sigh, "I promise nothing's going on, okay? You don't have to worry about it."

"Since the revelation that you also have Kur powers that are far more powerful than Zak's, I think I have every reason to worry. Someone could capture you and use your powers against you, against everyone." She softened a little, "Just give us a reason why you're going to the rainforest with only Alex so suddenly."

"...I can't." Doyle glanced away, "At least, not yet."

"Why-"

"Don't ask me, Professor." The redhead glared at his in-law, "This has to do with what happened after I left Alex and it's still a sore subject for me. I promise to explain sometime, but not today. Just leave it be for now, okay?" Doc wanted to ask more but knew better than to do it, so he didn't. This was also helped by Drew jabbing him in the side, preventing him from saying something that would dig him his own grave.

"We understand. Just keep a tracker on you, okay?" Drew asked.

"I will, sis." He hugged her, "It's only gonna be a day or so, not too long. We'll be back before you know it."

"If you don't keep that promise I will punch you where the sun doesn't shine, got it?"

"Yes ma'am." Doyle then shook hands with Doc and joined Alex in the jet, taking his own instead of the Griffon this time. As it took off, Doc turned to his wife.

"Would you really do that to him?"

"Yes." She nodded, "And don't think I won't do it to you, either." Doc took a step away from Drew and she laughed, "Don't worry, I won't unless you give me a good reason for it!"

"Right..." Doc didn't go near her for the rest of the day. Drew rolled her eyes at this but didn't say anything, not wanting to freak him out more.

* * *

"Is it really in the Amazon or was that just made up for some reason?" Alex asked as Doyle double-checked the settings in the jet.

"No, we really need to head there." He opened the trapdoor to the cargo bay and checked that there was plenty of room down there, "We won't be able to land at the  _exact_  place, of course, but there's a city nearby where we can land."

"And if it's not there?" Alex asked. Doyle shut the trapdoor.

"It'll be there." he assured, "There's not reason for it not to be, even after a decade..." Alex raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Doyle took the pilot's seat. Because there was more room in this jet than in the Griffon, Alex was sitting beside the redhead instead of behind, occupying the co-pilot's chair. If anything happened, he could also take over, seeing as he had a pilot's license.

"Everything good to go on your side?" Alex double-checked the instruments.

"Yep. How long'll it take us to get there?"

"A few hours, and it might take another hour or two to get to the place." Doyle pointed to the glove compartment as he had the jet take off, "Open that and pull out my photo album, please."

"Alright." Alex did so, a little surprised to find the small book inside.

"Now take out the photo of my birthday and turn it over. I made a small map to help me get back home if I ever returned."

"Home, huh?" It was cartoonish and wonky, but Alex didn't doubt that Doyle didn't understand it and would be able to guide them through the jungle.

"After we separated, it became a home to me." Doyle explained, "That place means so much to me, as much as our apartment in New York does, and I didn't wanna leave it behind, but I didn't have a choice."

"Again?" asked Alex. Doyle nodded, "Then why did you leave?"

"...Various reasons."

"Were you attacked or something?"

"Not quite. I left because I still needed to get a job and I couldn't get one there. Besides, as much as I love that place, it couldn't be a good house." Doyle shook his head, "Not for everything that went down."

"Which was?" Alex gestured for him to continue. Doyle snorted.

"Not today, Al. I'm still not comfortable with telling that part of my past. I mean, there are certain parts of your past that you haven't shared with me, either." Doyle glanced at him darkly, "Like how you didn't tell me how old you were for your first mission."

"...Francis told you, didn't he." It wasn't a question. Doyle nodded again.

"It was when we were looking for you at Sayle's place that we learned the truth."

"Then why didn't-"

"I didn't ask because I respected your privacy and I'd hope you'd tell us. You never did, and I can understand why you wouldn't, but it still hurt." Doyle said, "Especially learning how old you were." Alex looked away.

"I didn't wanna tell you because I knew you'd wanna get revenge on MI6 and because you'd pity me. I didn't want pity, I wanted you to treat me as I was and not judge me for my past. So many people do that now and I just wanted to be normal for once." He cast his eyes down, "I only wanna be normal."

"You're not off the hook, but that's an acceptable answer. And no one's normal, you know that."

"But I'm-"

"I know your non-normalness is different from most, but so am I." Doyle glanced at him, "You have no idea how non-normal I am." He smirked, "Maybe I'd beat you in the weird department."

"Don't go there. You don't wanna be in my shoes." Alex flinched when he felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Doyle touching him, even though the ex-mercenary wasn't looking at him.

"I'm not asking to walk in your shoes. I'd never put that on anyone." Doyle looked his way, "I'm just saying that you should keep in mind that some people, like myself, are just past your level of weird."

"And how would you know?" Doyle let go of him and focused on flying again.

"Just trust me, okay? And you wanted to discuss wedding plans?"

"Oh. Right." The blond glanced at him one more time, trying to determine if Doyle would say anything else significant, but when it didn't happen, he took out the paper pad and pencil again. For the rest of the ride they talked about wedding plans and at least came up with a few things: Both of them would wear tuxes (despite Doyle's insistence that he didn't mind wearing a wedding dress), Doyle would pick the music, it would be a small wedding with only personal friends and family, the wedding cake would be homemade (neither of them knew anyone besides they family who would willingly make a cake for a gay couple), and Alex was in charge of decorations. They knew they could leave some of those jobs up to their friends and family, but they knew they couldn't just pile everything on their loved ones and so decided to take a few jobs for themselves. Despite some of these decisions being made, there was still no definite idea where the wedding would take place or when, but that was fine with them. They'd waited 12 years to marry, they could wait a little while longer.

"There it is." Doyle pointed out of the windshield, "Gurupá, right on the banks of the Amazon." Doyle looked at Alex, "Ever been here before?"

"Not this close to the delta, no. I've never even heard of Gurupá until now."

"Didn't expect you to." It didn't take long for Doyle to land the jet in the airport there. Alex was just about to climb out when Doyle told him to stay and got out of the jet. He talked to the airport workers that had approached the jet and explained the situation to them, where some of them greeted Doyle like an old friend, much to the ex-spy's surprise. And when Doyle gestured for him to come out, Alex did so, confused.

"I didn't know you spoke Portuguese." Doyle winked.

"Like I said, there's still a bit you don't know about me. Now c'mon, I rented a truck from Enrique that we can take into the jungle, so we now have a way to bring all the stuff back with us."

"And the jet?"

"It'll be fine in the airport." They headed to the main body of the airport together.

"How do you know all these people?"

"Reasons." Alex rolled his eyes but didn't argue, sticking by his fiancé's side as they waited after they got into the airport. Doyle waved as the truck pulled up and talked with the driver for a moment before they switched places and Alex joined the redhead.

"Just how much are we getting?"

"Not much. Just a little bit of furniture, among other things." Alex looked into the truck bed as Doyle started the vehicle.

"Will it all fit back there?"

"Yeah, it's not a lot and it's not too big."

"...You know I hate being left in the dark after all that's happened to me."

"I know."

"Are you gonna tell me anything else?"

"No."

"Why?"

"As I said before, this place has a special connection with me, so just leave it be. You still have the photo?" Alex had tucked it into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled it out.

"Yep."

"Lemme see it for a sec." Alex handed it over. Doyle studied it before handing it back, "Okay, I know exactly where we're going, if the path isn't too overgrown. I hope Lila and Chuck took good care of the trail."

"Who? Oh, nevermind." Alex, as said before, didn't like being left in the dark like this, however, he trusted Doyle, so he just had to trust that Doyle knew what he was talking about, right? "You'll tell me everything later when you're comfortable about it, won't you."

"That's the spirit!" Doyle smiled at him, a soft, reassuring smile, and Alex smiled back. Yeah, he just had to trust his lover and things would be okay.


	2. What About All The Broken Happy-Ever-Afters?

As Doyle drove on, Alex gazed out the window and wanted to fill the silence somehow.

“Have I ever told you about the time I was sent to Afghanistan?”

“No, but I’d love to hear it.” Alex nodded, even though Doyle couldn’t see him do it, too focused on the trail.

“So, it was just after my second major mission with MI6, and they came to me, asking if I’d go to Afghanistan.” Alex said, “This journalist-turned-terrorist had taken over this old fort and was planning to create this huge terrorist group and was gonna use me as an example after he captured me. I was originally sent to see if he’d gotten this thing called a calutron going, but thankfully, he didn’t.”

“How’d you escape?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Doyle raised an eyebrow and glanced at Alex.

“Try me.”

“So... I attached a parachute to a horse and rode it off a cliff.” When Alex looked at the redhead, he gave an uncomfortable smile at Doyle’s astonished face.

“...I don’t know whether to congratulate you or send you to an insane asylum.” Doyle summed up.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Alex gave a weak chuckle, “That’s just one of the many crazy things I’ve done over the years.”

“I know that much.” Doyle turned back to the trail, which was starting to get harder to follow, as it was beginning to fade into the underbrush, “What other insane things have you done that I don’t know about?”

“Well, when Ian was still alive, I actually thwarted an assassination with him on Christmas vacation.”Alex fiddled with his hands, “I don’t talk about these side-missions much because they don’t affect me as much as my main missions.”

“How do you know these are all side-missions and not main ones?”

“Because my main ones are all much more dangerous and worse than the side ones.”

“I beg to differ with the parachute-horse-thing you did...”

“It only happened that one time-”

“And the time you made a horse jump off a bridge to avoid a train-”

“I had no choice-”

“You know what?” Doyle gave him a sly grin, “Even though you’re terrible at riding, you seem to have a way of making horses run where they don’t wanna go.”

“Doyle...” Alex growled. The redhead shrugged.

“Okay, I’ll stop.” All was silent for a moment, “But you have to admit that I’ve got a point.” Alex punched him in the arm and Doyle laughed, not swerving once.

“You bring up my lack of riding skills or my adventures with horses and I’ll make you wish I’d kicked your arse into next week.”

“Yes, Lemon. OW!”

“You. Are. The. Worst.”

“But you love me, don’t ‘cha?” Alex was tempted to punch Doyle in the mouth.

“If I didn’t, I would’ve hijacked the truck a long while ago.” The blond crossed his arms, “But keep this up and we’ll see what happens.”

“Got it.” Doyle was still grinning as they drove on, beginning to hit rough patches the farther they got into the rainforest. Alex looked out the window nervously.

“Isn’t this far enough?”

“Not quite, I don’t think.” Doyle held out a hand, “Hand me the map, please.” Alex did so. Doyle glanced between the map and the road before nodding and giving it back, “I was right. We’ve still got a few minutes to go until we get there, unless we have to stop for some reason.”

“Which we probably will.” Alex quipped, “I mean, just look out the window. I’ve been in the jungle before, but not this far in a ratty old truck.”

“It’s not ratty, it’s reliable.” Doyle argued, “It just looks bad.”

“And things that look bad usually turn out to be bad around me.” Alex murmured.

“I promise it’s not gonna cut out on us, you big scaredy cat.” The truck began to slow, “We’re just about there.” Alex watched as the truck came to a crawl and peeked through the underbrush, where he couldn’t help but let his eyes widen at the sight before him. Doyle saw it and couldn’t help but grin knowingly.

“Alex, welcome to my home.” He turned off the truck, “Well, technically it’s not mine, but it’s the closest thing to a home I’ve had since New York but before I found my family again.” It was a large cabin made of the wood of the trees around it, almost like a log cabin but not quite, and over the windows were mosquito nets and planes of glass. It sat on the ground on a small platform in case of flooding, steps leading up to it, and in front of it ran a small river with a bridge that ran over it. The bridge was too small for the truck to cross and so they would have to go on foot, which neither minded, but Alex still couldn’t get out of the vehicle, too astounded by what he was seeing.

“How-?” Alex shook his head, “Someone besides you should know about this, there should be a bigger trail-!”

“Don’t try thinking it out.” Doyle advised as he got out, “Just c’mon and help me.” He walked around to the back of the truck and unlocked the door to the bed, then headed towards the house.

“Wait, what did you mean by you not actually owning this place?” Alex climbed out after him. Doyle shrugged.

“I made a friend over the years and he allowed me to stay here.” Doyle gazed at the building wistfully, “Couldn’t stay, though.”

“Why?”

“Lots of reasons. Many I’m not ready to confess yet.” Doyle shook himself, “Now c’mon, let’s go in.” Out of his pocket he took a key, which didn’t seem to have any rust on it or, if it had, it was gone now. He must’ve taken good care of it for it to be in such a good condition. He unlocked the door (after shaking the lock a little to deal with the rust on it) and they went inside. To their surprise, there were not dust or cobwebs, which would indicate an abandoned place, and Doyle smiled.

“Looks like he’s kept it in good condition, even if the lock’s not too good anymore.” Doyle said as they looked around. Alex saw that they had come into a living room of some sort, complete with ancient TV that he doubted worked anymore, but there were no pictures on the walls. There were no decorations. There was no personality to this place, unless it used to have it and then lost it.

“What are we looking for?” Alex asked quietly, as if there was reverence to this place.

“Not in here.” The ex-mercenary gestured for him to follow. The ex-spy did so, carefully stepping around the furniture, and they went down a hallway. At the end was a door, as well as a few to the sides, and Doyle headed to the one at the end first. Inside was a simple bedroom, nothing to give it personality, and Doyle gave a disinterested sound before leaving the room. Alex glanced around, seeing a closet, a bed, and a nightstand with a lamp, but that was it. There was nothing interesting in here, so what was Doyle looking for? He returned to the hallway and saw one of the doors opened, so he peeked inside.

“What the fuck..?” he whispered.

“Don’t curse in here.” Doyle snapped, glaring at Alex over his shoulder.

“Is- is this a _nursery_?” For once, there was life to a room. The walls were covered in green paint, unlike the plain wood of the rest of the house, and inside were a small bed, a crib, a rocking chair, a cabinet, and a monster-themed mobile hanging from the ceiling. Doyle was standing over the crib, hands resting on the side, staring down into it when he wasn’t glaring at Alex.

“What did you think it was?” Doyle grumbled, stretching a hand into the crib and touching the blanket. Alex could sense the mood and kept his mouth shut. The silence seemed to stretch forever before Doyle sighed and straightened up, “Okay, look, you’re gonna help me move the crib and the chair into the truck, and we’ll keep the mobile with us in the front seat along with some stuff from the cabinet. But not before I take pictures, got it?”

“Right.” Alex backed out of the room as Doyle took a camera out of his pocket, “I’ve just got one question, though.”

“What is it?”

“Was this room for your friend’s child or-?” Alex feared the worst. Doyle could hear it in his voice. The bigger man shook his head.

“This room was my room...and my son’s.” He turned to see the stricken look on the blond’s face, “I never got with anyone after you except Abbey, and that was a few years ago. This happened about a year after we separated.”

“Then how the hell do you have a son?” Alex demanded.

“I said don’t curse in here!” Doyle snapped, then turned away and began taking pictures, “It’s a long story, but let me say that I didn’t have him with anyone other than you.”

“Either you adopted him, or had him with someone.” Alex looked around, “This was made for a baby, so I place my belief in that you had him with someone and was abandoned to take care of the child yourself. Or was your ‘friend’ the one you had him with?” Slowly, Alex felt his anger rising.

“Something like that.” Doyle muttered, “But not in the way you think. I wanna explain it to you so you don’t blow up at me, but I don’t feel comfortable doing it.” He blinked, then turned to Alex, “Is this how you felt when I got on to you for not sharing your missions with me sooner? Man, this feels terrible. I’m so sor-”

“Save it.” Alex had his arms crossed now. He knew he shouldn’t let his anger get the best of him, but he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by this turn of events, “Let’s just get the furniture out of here and get this over and done with.”

“ _After_ I’m done taking pictures.” Doyle stressed, “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve seen this room...”

“Wait.” Something began occurring to Alex, “If you used to live here with your son, then where is he now?” Doyle was quiet for a moment, having turned away from Alex to get another snapshot.

“I...” Doyle swallowed, “I had to give him up. I didn’t want him to live with me with how my life was at the time, and so I gave him up to an orphanage, but I made a deal with the heads there. If I could come back for him before his thirteenth birthday, he’d be my son again.”

“Is that why we’re here? Because he’s coming home soon?” Doyle nodded. Alex now felt a little guilty for his anger, but it still ran under the surface, burning because of the revelation that Doyle had a son with someone besides Alex. The blond tried to tamp down on it for now, not wanting to upset his fiancé further, “Who is he?”

“His name’s Dylan. We’ve been keeping in touch thanks to the laptop. That’s why I’ve been busy recently, so I could get him home.” Doyle ran a hand through his hair, “He turns thirteen in April, first day of the month. I promised to bring him home. I’m not backing out on that.”

“Then why are we bringing all this stuff home? For memories?” Doyle nodded again, “You’ve got the pictures, you don’t need-”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t need, Alex.” The blond flinched at the redhead’s dark voice, “I raised my child here, from birth, and this place holds so many memories. When we leave here, we’re not coming back ever again. I need to take my own stuff and leave. That’s why I’m not leaving any of Dylan’s stuff behind.” Doyle put away the camera and turned to look at Alex, showing his fiancé his blank yet angry face, “If you ever had a child, you’d know the feeling. These memories don’t just exist in my heart, they also exist in these objects, and if I ever have another child, these will be useful in raising him or her or them.” Doyle narrowed his eyes, “If you love me as much as you say and don’t want me to call off the marriage, then leave this issue _alone_.” And with that, Doyle turned to face the crib again. This time, Alex moved into the living room so that he wouldn’t be tempted to speak up. He didn’t want Doyle to make good on his threat or worse and he truly did love Doyle, but there were parts of this he couldn’t quite understand. And yet, it reminded him of when he had to leave him home in London after Jack’s death. He could’ve brought along anything he wanted, for the memories, but he chose not to. He chose to try and leave his old life behind, but even at that, it didn’t work. So he supposed he kind of knew what Doyle was saying, about trying to take the memories with him. And he was right when he said that the stuff was still useful.

“Hey.” Doyle emerged from the hallway, now significantly calmed, and handed Alex some papers and the mobile, “Could you take these out to the truck? This is all that’s going in the front seat.”

“Sure.” He stood up, “And I’m sorry.” Doyle shook his head.

“Thanks, but it’s okay. You didn’t know how attached I can get to things. I forgive you.” The ex-mercenary gave him a one-armed hug before going back to the room. Alex headed out the front door and to the truck while examining what Doyle had given him. In one hand was the mobile, from which was hanging four different monsters that Alex had never seen before, but looked too detailed to be ordinary. One was a violet saber-toothed cat, one was a tan cat/pig hybrid, the third was a pink pompom with legs, and the fourth looked like a fat fairy squirrel. Alex didn’t think there was any information to glean from that and so turned to the papers. These caused him to frown, as each one was made up of a hand making some sort of sign and a letter, the total of them making the alphabet. It looked like something you would use to help teach sign language, but Alex didn’t know why Doyle would have these for any reason other than to teach someone sign language.

“Oh, Al!” Alex, who was only halfway to the truck, turned around when he heard Doyle’s call. The redhead ran to him, carrying some books, and added them to Alex’s arms, “These go in the front too. And be careful with the mobile, I don’t want it getting damaged.” And then he ran back inside. Alex huffed and went on to the truck, where he laid the stuff down in the front seat before deciding what to do with each, and that’s when he caught the titles of some of the books. _Nita’s First Signs_ , _Signing Made Easy_ , _American Sign Language Phrase Book_ , _Hands and Hearts_. Each one was either a book on how to sign or a book for young children on signing. This caused Alex to come up with a theory that he didn’t really like: Was Doyle’s son born deaf and, if so, did he have to teach himself how to sign, as well as his son? It made Alex feel terrible. He tried to get the feelings out by putting the stuff in careful stacks in the middle seat and making sure everything was balanced before going to help Doyle. Now the ex-spy wanted to get out of there as soon as possible and not deal with all the revelations he was facing.

Soon they got everything on the truck and strapped it down so that it wouldn’t go anywhere, but before they left, Doyle wanted to look around one more time. Alex just wanted to leave.

“I haven’t seen any sign of them... I wonder if they’ve moved on.”

“Who?” Alex couldn’t help but overhear and be curious about what Doyle was talking about. Doyle had mentioned the names before, too, so now he was really curious on who the two were. The bigger man rolled his eyes.

“Lila and Chuck. They were friends of mine I made while I was out here and they were supposed to be taking care of the place, but if they’ve moved on now, I don’t blame them.” Doyle gazed at the cabin one last time, “I wonder if I’ll ever see them again.”

“Maybe.” Alex shrugged, “I never wanted to see Scorpia again but look what’s happened.”

“That’s because of your luck.” Doyle took the driver’s seat again, as the only one know knew how to get out of the rainforest. He then started the vehicle and began to drive away. As they did so, Alex looked back at the building and realized one thing that caused him to freeze up a little in fear.

No matter where he had looked or how hard he tried to hear, there had been no natural sound, nor any animals. It was if the area was sound-proofed, and Alex knew that wasn’t right. So the only option he could think of was that there had been _something_ in the area that scared away all the sound and animals. That didn’t bode well for his nerves. But at least they were leaving now, right?

* * *

Drew sat in the lab, fuming with anger as she watched one of the news channels scroll across a TV screen. Doc was also there and knew that, if they wanted to keep the TV intact, he had probably turn it off and calm down his wife.

“Hey!” Drew exclaimed, turning to glare at him, “I was watching that!”

“And I don’t want another murdered TV.” Doc quipped. Drew blushed.

“It was _one_ time...”

“And anyway, what’s got you so mad?” Doc pulled up a chair beside her.

“Just what’s going on right now in London.” She gestured at the quiet TV, “I can understand not liking someone for being gay, but you don’t have to murder them!”

“Mm-hm.” Doc nodded, “Is this anger only because of that or is part of it also worry?”

“You’ve got me there.” Drew nodded back, then grabbed the remote to turn the TV on again, “Ever since I found out that my brother way gay, I’ve just been worried something like this would happen to him. Before all this, I never really had an opinion on it. I mean, I was raised by monks, after all. I never really got into romance until I met Van Rook, and even then I never really understood the whole LGBTQ thing. When I did, I didn’t form an opinion because what would be the point? And now that I know about Doyle and Alex, that doesn’t change.” She shrugged, “I support my brother, but that doesn’t mean I support the whole concept of being gay.”

“You haven’t said anything bad about it, though.”

“Just because I haven’t said anything doesn’t mean I have an opinion.” Doc nodded again.

“Well, I actually had an opinion before this whole thing.” Doc glanced away, seeming to look a little guilty, “I was against the idea at first. I mean, I was against a lot of things before I met Doyle, but he’s proven me wrong a few times. I thought, when I first learned he was gay, to give it a chance because of that. And now, I just don’t know, like you.” Doc gave a sigh, “I was raised to not like gay people, but now that I’ve come around to the idea, I just don’t know anymore.”

“I get that. But if Doyle wanted, I can see myself supporting more than just him and Alex.” Drew admitted, “He’d probably want it, honestly.” She looked at the TV again, “But whether or not you love someone of the same gender, you shouldn’t get killed for it. I’m just so worried that one day, it’ll be Doyle ending up like that. Before, I was so sure he could take care of himself, but now that I know he’s gay, I’m anxious. There are a lot of people out there who hate gay people, transgender, stuff like that, and if the wrong person finds out...” She shook her head. Doc wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“He’s also got Alex, though. And they’re being careful about it. They managed to keep this up over a decade ago, when being gay wasn’t a thing you could really do in public without it being a crime. I think they can handle it, but if they can’t, they’ve always got us.”

“Right...” Drew nodded, but she didn’t seem completely convinced, “I just want them to come home so I know they’re safe.” Doc couldn’t agree with her more. Both looked up when a beep came from one of the control panels, which they checked to find that an intruder had entered.

“Y’know, these silent alarms are way better than the loud ones you had installed before.” Drew noted as they grabbed their weapons, “They won’t know we’re coming.”

“I guess.” Doc shrugged, taking out his sat phone, “Do you think we should tell Zak to stay in his room?” Drew gave him a look.

“If we did that, he’d know something was going on and try to investigate anyway. You should tell Francis, though, at least he listens. And this might be about him, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Right.” As Doc called Francis, Drew checked the panel to find out where the intruder was. They were located in the kitchen, not leaving the room, and Drew contemplated turning on the lockdown protocol, but decided against it. It was just one person, she thought them could take ‘em. They made their way down to the same floor as the kitchen, careful not to alert the intruder, and peeked inside.

“You!” Drew gasped. The man looked up, his black mohawk falling in his eyes. The two Saturdays drew their weapons, ready for a fight, as this was the Anti-Matter version of Doyle, Doyle Whitewell. They’d met him once before and knew that he was complete and utter trouble. He’d been eating a sandwich before and raised an eyebrow at their reactions.

“What are you doing here?” Doc asked, “How did you get here?”

“None of your business, Blue Eye. And as much as I’d have liked to come here for a fight,” Whitewell pushed down the tip of the sword with a finger, unafraid, “I actually came to ask for help.” The Saturdays shared a surprised glance.

“Why didn’t you ask the Mondays?” Drew said. Whitewell rolled his eyes.

“One, I’ve been on the run for four months. Two, I tried, but the only one I could find was my bitchy sister and I know sure as hell that she wouldn’t help me. Seems something’s happened that made them scattered. But I’m not here to ask for help in ‘reuniting’ my family, I need your help to find my nephew.”

“But he’s dead.” said Drew.

“If he was, your son would be dead, too, but he’s not, is he?” Whitewell took another bite of his sandwich, “It’s the whole mirror thing. If something happens on one side, it affects the other. If Monday had died, so would Saturday and then none of that ‘end of the world’ stuff would’ve been stopped.” He’d been leaning on one of the counters and adjusted himself to be sitting on it, as if making it his home, “I’ve looked all over the place for him, in both worlds. I can’t find him and I’ve got no one to turn to except you goody-two-shoes. So will you _please_ help me?” Drew and Doc shared another glance.

“There’s no catch?”

“Nope.” Whitewell made the ‘p’ pop with a smile, as if he’d been blowing bubblegum, then frowned, “Can’t stay for long periods, though. Since my counterpart isn’t in the Anti-Matter World, I have to use this device that temporarily allows me to appear here.” He waved a hand, “But you’ll help me, right? All I wanna do is find my nephew and then I’ll be outta your hair.”

“Wait a second.” Drew lifted her sword again to make sure Whitewell didn’t come any closer, “You said you’ve been on the run for four months. Who have you been running from?”

“Smart girl.” He waved it off, “Just an old enemy of mine. He can’t come into the Matter World, though, so don’t worry about it.”

“And if he can?” asked Doc. Whitewell’s face dropped for a moment and they could see the clear and utter terror that appeared on his face. If it scared him so badly, they changed their minds and thought that they didn’t want to know.

“No. He _can’t_ and _won’t_ .” Whitewell’s voice shook slightly as he tried to wipe the emotion off his face, “But if he does… _Lord help me_ .” He dragged a hand down his tired face and, though he now looked calm, the fear was still prominent in his eyes, “However, I promise that he can’t get here. I _know_ he can’t. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt any of you unless he had a good reason, which he doesn’t have. Now, will you help me? I asked nicely! I don’t do that!”

“Give us a second.” said Doc. The Saturdays edged away, out of earshot, then spoke to one another in whispers. No matter how hard he tried, Whitewell couldn’t tell what they were saying and so had to wait on their verdict. He stared at them nervously, face tight, wondering if they’d actually help him. They certainly had no right to, but he couldn’t ask anyone else. He’d told them the truth for the most part, so there was no reason for them not to believe him, but he couldn’t help feeling that they’d deny him. Finally, they turned back to him and slowly put away their weapons. He perked up.

“We’ll help.” Doc announced, “The only problem is, we have no idea where to look except where he supposedly ‘died.’”

“I looked there.” Whitewell shook his head, “No clues.” Suddenly he straightened up and put a hand on his head, as if having a headache, “Damn it, not now.”

“What is it?” Drew asked.

“I’ve used up all my time here, gotta return to the Anti-Matter World. But I’ll be back in three days. See ya.” He touched the reflective surface of the fridge and disappeared in a flash of light. The two adults looked at each other.

“I hope we didn’t just make a deal with the devil.” said Drew.

“You and I both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Afghanistan mission is actually true, as it's one of the collected stories in the new AR book, Secret Weapon.
> 
> 2\. I wasn't sure how to progress the chapter after Alex and Doyle's segment, and then I realized that I'd never quite touched on Drew and Doc's feelings about Doyle being gay and so decided to bring that up and try to define it.
> 
> 3\. This chapter introduced Doyle Whitewell, Doyle's Anti-Matter counterpart. He's never appeared in the show and I didn't come up with this representation of him, SharpAsFlint did, but they've allowed me to use their interpretation. I've only made a few changes (not to this description) that can be seen in the story later, to reflect what will happen.  
> This is their interpretation:
> 
> personality:  
> Could be compared as a mix between the regular Doc and Doyle. Is extremely smart and witty but is cocky and smart mouthed like his mirror counterpart. He isn't as reckless or keen to use improvisation as Doyle is but is twice as ruthless and brutal along with being very sly, devious, selfish and constantly two-faced. Like neither Doyle Blackwell or Doc Saturday, Doyle Whitewell is a shady character who tends to keep himself in the shadows, more of a silent striker. He is just about, if not more dangerous than the other Doyle and is not afraid to get dirty to get what he wants. A strong fighter who uses speed and agility to his advantage. Unlike the normal Doyle, has a neutral relationship with the dim witted Doc Monday who he sees as no threat to him. Is very fierce towards his sister as he can be rather ignorant and doesn't listen to anyone's orders but his own, hence he hates it when Drew Monday orders him about. His methods and dislike for Drew have given him a rather good relationship with Komodo Monday who he commonly schemes and terrorises the public with. Also used to be quite close to his nephew who he was training to be his partner in crime. Has been quite fierce for vengeance ever since he learnt of Zak's demise.  
> Preferred weapon choice:  
> Jetpack: Much like his counterparts except his engines create a louder roar when he flies and spews out pollutive anti matter smoke and fumes.  
> Grenades: His grenades don't just cause explosions, they leak acid and or poisonous gas when thrown.  
> Appearance:  
> Almost identical to Doyle Blackwell except his hair is black and he has tattoos on his neck and arms. Has darker areas around his eyes and is also a chain smoker.


	3. The Chase Ain't Worth The Prize

_“Forget him!” Doyle hissed to himself, “He left you and forced you to live out on the streets again!” He kicked a can out of his way, “Be he’s also the one who gave you a home, loved you for everything that you are.” He shook his head, “He’s still a bastard! Even if he’s the only guy I’ve come to love so far.”_

_After having to leave the apartment, Doyle was now making his way elsewhere, just wandering. It had been two months since his leaving, he wasn’t sure where he was, only that he wasn’t in New York City anymore. He might’ve already left the state. He hoped he had. He didn’t want to see any piece of the place where he used to live. He certainly didn’t want to go anywhere that reminded him of Alex._

_All of a sudden, his fiancé disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving only a note. He was left alone until he was forced to leave by the people who sold him, and he wasn’t sure whether to hate Alex or forgive him. He also wondered if Alex had somehow been kidnapped or prevented from coming home, but he doubted it. He was no stranger to being hated or deceived. But for a year? He knew it was hard to believe, but he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind at the moment. Even though it had been two months, his emotions were still rattled to the point where he was having mood swings. He was also waking up sick much of the time now, and he wondered if something was wrong with him, but he couldn’t show his face. He didn’t want Alex to find him. He could tough through this. He was taken out of his thoughts when he heard a car pull up beside him. He’d been walking along the side of the road and hadn’t been expecting this._

_“Hey, you need a ride?” It was a man, a little older than himself, smiling and trying to seem harmless, but Doyle wasn’t buying it._

_“No thanks.” said the redhead. He had enough experience with being alone to understand that you couldn’t accept everything thrown your way. Besides, he was used to travelling on foot, this was nothing._

_“If you say so...” And Doyle was left alone again. He preferred it this way, especially after Alex._

_“_ I'm gonna break your little heart, watch you take the fall, laughing all the way to the hospital. 'Cause there's nothing surgery can do when I break your little heart in two. I'm gonna break your little heart in two... _” Even though Doyle was now beginning to regret ever knowing Alex, he couldn’t help but appreciate and love the music he was introduced to. He hummed the song as he kept walking, not looking back._

* * *

“We’re home.” Doyle announced, taking the jet in for a landing. After returning to Gurupá, they’d given back the truck and unloaded its contents into his jet. It had taken most of the day for the trip, but now they were home at last. Alex had spoken more of his adventures and Doyle didn’t know whether he should be grateful Alex survived or if he should choke Alex and lock him up where he couldn’t get hurt anymore. He’d said this several times as Alex’s tales got more and more dangerous.

“That’s good.” Alex said, “When are you planning on bringing Dylan here?”

“Before April, definitely, but I don’t really know when.” Doyle wanted to rest his head against the controls but refrained from doing so, as they were still in the air, “I want him to be here with me _so_ badly, but I’m afraid of what he’ll think. I promised him I’d bring him ‘home,’ but I just don’t know if that’s what I can call this place.”

“Why not? Isn’t this where you’ve been living after you found your sister again?”

“Yeah, but it’s not- It just doesn’t-” Doyle sighed, frustrated as he tried to come up with a good way to say it, “It doesn’t feel like home. Yes, I live here, but I don’t feel completely comfortable. It’s not their fault, not at all, I only want a place for myself that I know Dylan will love.”

“And me?” asked Alex, “Am I included in living there?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But what will Dylan think of me?” The ex-spy was now feeling more and more uncomfortable as he continued to think about it, “You’re his father, he doesn’t know me at all.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve told him all about you. He might not like you at first, thanks to my anger at you, but he’ll warm up to you. I know he will.” They were now resting in the hangar of the Saturday’s house and Doyle gave Alex a reassuring smile, “Trust me, Alex.”

“I’ll try. I just don’t want you to make a choice between us.”

“I won’t have to, I’m sure. Just let him warm up to you and everything’ll be fine.” Doyle unbuckled and left his seat, going back to the storage area to begin unloading. Alex followed him.

“You think we’ll see another disaster this time?”

“I hope not. It took forever to free Komodo’s head from that peanut butter jar!” Alex climbed down the ladder into the storage area and looked around.

“What do you want me to take?”

“Same stuff as before.” Doyle handed him the books and papers, “I’ll open the bay door so we can take out the chair and the crib.”

“And the mobile?”

“I’m gonna leave it in the crib. There’s no need to hang it up and they kinda go together, so I’ll probably put them both in storage later.”

“But not the chair?”

“No. I can still get some use out of it, like rocking until I fall asleep or something.” Alex nodded.

“If you do, I’ll wake you.”

“Ha ha, no.” Doyle gave him a playful glare, “You wake me up for any reason other than an emergency, I will make you sleep in the living room.” Alex cracked a smile.

“Got it.” The blond took the exit through the bay door before looking back, “Want me to put all this in our room?”

“Where else would we put it?” Alex rolled his eyes at Doyle’s rhetorical question before continuing on his way to the room. As he did so, he passed Komodo on the way. The large lizard trilled, happy to see him back, and followed him. Alex knew he wanted to know what had happened and so told the dragon about the adventure, or at least most of it. He knew that there were parts Doyle probably didn’t want him revealing, not to mention a few things he himself wasn’t comfortable with, so Alex left them out. When he finished, Komodo gave a questioning hiss, but Alex couldn’t understand what he wanted. They may not have disliked each other anymore, but that didn’t mean they had a connection.

“Look, Doyle’s coming this way too, so maybe you can ask him whatever you’re trying to ask me.” Alex said. Komodo gave another hiss, as if not liking the answer he got, and continued to follow the blond. Alex ignored him and went to his shared room with Doyle. He put the stack of books and papers on the bed and looked around. Doyle had taken the extra bed back to one of the guest rooms after Alex had returned and made amends, but he guessed that the redhead might bring it back now that Dylan was coming to join their growing family. If he was his fiancé, he’d want to keep an eye on his son too if he hadn’t been with Dylan for a decade or so. Of course, that was just a guess, but an educated guess nonetheless.

“Mind moving a little?”

“Sorry.” Alex stepped back so Doyle could fit the chair in the room, setting it in one of the corners. Komodo hissed in surprise, not hearing the redhead approach. He investigated the chair, tongue flicking out the smell it.

“I’m gonna go and get one of the guest beds now.” Doyle said, “Could you ask Drew or Doc about storage rooms for the crib?”

“Sure.”

“Crib?” asked Komodo. Rarely did he speak, and this came out as an astonished squeak. There had been nothing said about a crib! Were there incoming babies, too?! The adults couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Komodo’s face.

“I’m sure Alex told you a bit about what happened, and this is part of it, but I can’t tell you the whole thing yet.” said Doyle, patting Komodo’s head. Together the two then left the room, leaving Komodo to his thoughts.

The lizard continued to smell the chair, frowning. Even though much of the scents had faded off it, there were still some that clung. The smell of its wood, Doyle, a strong hint of Alex (it smelled out of place, probably because he recently touched the chair), and an unknown smell that he didn’t know. It was a human, definitely, but not a human he knew. Alex had mentioned a friend that had lived there with Doyle, so maybe this smell belonged to that friend. Komodo was bothered that he didn’t know who that was, however, and he didn’t know why. He wished he knew, though, so this would stop bothering him.

* * *

Doyle went down the hall and opened the door to Francis’ room. He was surprised to find it unlocked, but not so when he found the boy reading on his bed. Originally it was the guest room and had two beds, but now it was slightly decorated, as was one of the beds. The other was untouched.

“Hey, Francis?” The green-haired boy lowered his book to look at Doyle.

“Yes sir?”

“Can I take the extra bed?”

“Sure. There’s no reason I would use it, anyway.” Francis watched as Doyle entered the room, “Why do you need it again?”

“Reasons.”

“Like your son?” Francis realized what he’d said and paled as Doyle froze. The redhead looked at him sharply.

“You know?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“And you know because the Gray Men have a file on him?”

“Yes sir.” Doyle rubbed a hand on his tired face.

“I knew it. I _hate_ them, they’re just as bad as MI6 if not worse!” Doyle glared at Francis, “Promise me that you won’t share this with anyone, okay? I’m not comfortable sharing the truth just yet, and if you know it, then don’t share it. This is my issue, not yours.”

“Yes sir, I promise I won’t.” Doyle nodded, seeming to calm down.

“Good boy.” He then resumed moving the bed. When he was gone, Francis gave a sigh of relief, glad that Doyle hadn’t hurt him on the spot at the mention of his son. Too shaken to return to his book, he sat in silence, trying to calm down. He knew how unstable Doyle could be at times just at the _mention_ of Dylan, being a severely overprotective father and whatnot. The key to avoiding such a confrontation is to just talk and not allow Doyle to get angry at you. Somehow, Francis had managed to do it. And, now that Dylan was finally returning to his father’s side, maybe Doyle’s overprotectiveness would tone down a lot. Francis doubted it, though.

* * *

Luckily for Doyle, Drew and Doc were still discussing Whitewell’s sudden appearance and the deal they had made. It was because of this that they were surprised when Alex came into the room. They didn’t even know he came into the room and not because of their discussion, it was because Alex saw an opportunity and took it and found it utterly hilarious later. He quietly moved into the room, taking their distraction and using it to allow him to get close, and then he spoke when there was a pause in the conversation. It went a little something like this:

“He said he’ll be gone for three days, what’ll we do when he gets back?” asked Doc, “I know we promised, but really? Can we trust him?”

“Absolutely not, but he seemed honest in asking for help.” Drew answered, “We have to give him a chance, but the second he tries to double-cross us, I’m gonna kick his ass back to his dimension.”

“Kick who’s ass?”

“What the-?!” Both Saturdays leapt off their seats and readied their weapons. Alex just stood nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow.

“Done being spooked yet?”

“Don’t _do_ that!” said Drew, “We could’ve killed you!”

“A lotta people say that. They never accomplish it, surprisingly enough.” Alex muttered, then took a seat on the counter beside their chairs, “Okay, so three things: One, do you have any storage rooms? Two, what were you talking about? Three, any progress on the Blackwell line and its relation to Kur?”

“First, yes, we have storage rooms near the basement. Second,” Doc shared a glance with Drew, who nodded, so he went on, “we were talking about Doyle Whitewell, Doyle’s Anti-Matter counterpart. Third...” He turned to his wife, “ _Have_ you made any progress?”

“Not a lot, no. I’ve only been able to go so far back as the Revolutionary War, but that’s it. It’s kinda hard for me to go beyond that. However, I have found a few weird things while looking up the past.”

“What kind of things?” Alex tilted his head.

“Weird things always seem to happen around the men of the family, never the women, and it usually involves animals, mainly cryptids.” Drew looked uncomfortable, “I still find it hard to believe that Doyle and I have a deeper connection with Kur than I ever imagined.”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.” Doc assured her, “Anything else?”

“Pretty much half the family were redheaded, mainly the guys with the powers. And a few were also albino, like myself, but it’s hard to get that kind of record before people realized we weren’t demons and such.”

“I’m starting to sense a pattern here...” Alex mused sarcastically. Doc gave the blond a glare. Alex was unfazed as he went on, “Is that everything we know about the Blackwell line?”

“As far as I know.” Drew admitted.

“Then I have a few suggestions to help you in your search, and I’m not trying to be mean when I say these things. The first is that last names can change over time, such as Emmott coming from the name Emma. Maybe Blackwell was originally something else. And the second thing you could look for is starting with the place where Kur’s legend is from.”

“You mean Sumer? Kur comes from the Sumerian texts and I’ve tried-”

“Then maybe it’s not in the texts you have stored. Maybe it’s in other texts you haven’t seen yet, like more into the history of Sumer than its legends.” Alex shrugged, “Just a suggestion. I could be completely off the mark, but I wanted to help. Now,” He leaned forward and crossed his arms, “What’s this about Doyle’s counterpart?” The Saturdays grimaced. They wished Alex had forgotten about that, but it seems he hadn’t.

“If we tell you, you have to promise not to tell Doyle.” Doc spoke, “Last time these two met each other, Whitewell nearly killed him and I think Doyle would want revenge on him.”

“I can understand that.” Alex’s eyes glinted dangerously at the mention of Doyle’s near-death, “But why were you talking about him? Did he suddenly appear here and ask for help?”

“Actually, that’s exactly what he did.” Drew said, “He wants our help trying to find Zak Monday, who he believes to be alive.”

“And he didn’t ask his own family because..?”

“Apparently he could only find his sister and, nothing to say about you honey, she’s a complete asshole.” Doc said. Alex nodded.

“Seems pretty desperate. Anything else?” The Saturdays shared another look. Alex raised an eyebrow, waiting for their words.

“He mentioned he was on the run from someone. Someone very dangerous.” Drew spoke, “He seemed terrified of him, whoever he is.”

“How long did he say he was running?” asked Alex.

“Four months.” Alex frowned and did a quick calculation in his head. He didn’t like the results he was coming up with.

“Five  months is when I first found Doyle again after our separation, back in September. It’s close enough to be applied here, too.” Alex ran a hand through his hair, “Your Anti-Matter counterparts are like the complete opposite of you, I’ve seen that with my own eyes. My best guess is that Whitewell’s been running from my counterpart, and if he’s anything like I think he is, you should just break any mirror you can find, even if he can’t come over here.” Alex seemed to age before their eyes, growing tired every second, especially in his eyes, “I am not the best man. I am no saint. Both of you know this. But I know what my opposite would be like, and he would be the most despicable, insane person you could imagine. I would like to suggest leaving Whitewell to deal with him, but if one side of the mirror affects the other, I’m afraid of what would become of our Doyle. So while we’re helping Whitewell, somehow, we have to keep an eye out for and maybe even stop my counterpart, whatever his name may be. Kill him if we need to.” Alex gave a dark smile, “And I don’t mind making the finishing blow if it comes to that.” The Saturdays almost took a step back from him. They didn’t like seeing this side of Alex.

“But hopefully he’ll leave us alone. Whitewell was pretty sure he couldn’t get here.” said Doc, trying to steer the conversation away from the darkness Alex was bringing, “Do you think you could help us?”

“Sure.” Alex shrugged, his dark side disappearing in an instant, “Besides the wedding, I’ve got nothing better to do.” He hopped off the counter, “Now I’ve gotta go tell Doyle about the storage rooms. See ya.” And then he was gone. The two remaining adults looked at one another.

“Why did Doyle send him to ask about the rooms, anyway?” Doc wondered.

“With Doyle, who knows.” Drew said.

* * *

Night had fallen quickly and the family had gathered to watch some television together, something they’d started doing as a New Year’s Resolution and to get closer. Of course, since everyone had their own things they wanted to do sometimes, they only did this two or three times a week, but it was kinda paying off. Alex didn’t see how it was, though, seeing as he’d never really done anything like it before. It seemed to be benefitting the rest of the family, however, even Doyle, who Alex knew hadn’t done this either. But maybe Doyle was more comfortable with it from the nights they used to spend on the couch together, cuddling and watching TV. Or maybe he was reading too much into it and needed to get with everything.

He was getting undressed when he was taken out of these thoughts, feeling someone staring at his turned back. He glanced over his shoulder to see his fiancé staring at his scars, old and new. Alex frowned. He knew they were mesmerizing sometimes, but he wasn’t in the mood for it tonight. He wasn’t in the mood for anything, really. Family time never left him with good feelings.

“Honestly, the worst thing you can do is stare.” Alex murmured, “Of all people, you know what this is like, so please stop.” Doyle blinked, face beginning to burn in shame as he realized what he’d done, and he went over to Alex’s side and held the blond close, knowing the ex-spy needed it. Alex leaned into him, glad his lover had gotten the message, and stilled when he felt the redhead gently rubbing his side, as if trying to make up for the staring.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to make you feel better.” Doyle dropped his hand but still held Alex close, “I’m sorry. You know I never mean to, it’s just-” Doyle gave a growl, almost allowing it to become a snarl, “When I see them, I always get filled with this hurricane of rage and sadness and everything in between. I want to hug you and love you, I feel sorry for everything that’s happened to you, I wanna kill MI6 for what they did to you, I wanna do so much, and it all comes together and leaves me unable to move, just staring at your stories and your pain. I’m _sorry_.”

“I know.” Alex took one of Doyle’s hands and held it, “Why don’t you tell me a few things, like the monsters on the mobile? I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

“Those? They were made by my friend, they’re based on cryptids that I knew of. The violet sabertooth is called a Rakshasa, the pink pompom is a Peluda, the squirrel-fairy-thing is a Beast of Bowness, and the pig-cat is a Tapire-Iauara.” Doyle smiled, “I’ve actually seen Beast of Bownesses before. They helped me escape Weird World the first time. Anyone who sees one is said to unlock mysteries.” He shrugged, “Never helped me solve any mysteries, but they’re really good luck charms!”

“I’ll say. And why cryptids on a mobile?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Doyle shook his head, “Remember when I told you about Lila and Chuck? They’re actually cryptids themselves. Lila is a Rakshasa and Chuck is a Tapire-Iauara. I guess I kinda commemorated them in it. I liked the look of the Peluda and the Beast of Bowness, so that’s why they were there.”

“How did you meet those cryptids?”

“Well, Tapire-Iauaras live in the Amazon area, but how Lila got there is a mystery, since Rakshasas are usually located in Asia. I never actually got close to them, but they hung around the house, kinda like guards, I guess? I eventually named them and, when I left the first time, I asked them if they could take care of the trail. They didn’t have to, but I’m glad they did.”

“Maybe they were still there and you didn’t see them.” Alex mused, “I noticed that, while we were there, there was no natural sound. No birds, no animals, nothing, so maybe they were there, hiding, and scared any animals away.”

“Could be.” Doyle shrugged, “It was always intensely quiet there, so I guess I didn’t notice. I’m just glad they never decided to attack us.” Doyle closed his eyes, “And there was always one thing I couldn’t understand after I left. It was one night, after Dylan was home and in his crib. I got up to check on him and just outside the window was Lila, who was looking in on him. Rakshasas are shapeshifters, okay, and even though she was as big as the house, she had transformed one of her claws to a string, I guess, and had stuck it through the open window and the mosquito net. She was using it to play with Dylan, who was gurgling and cooing happily. It was like she didn’t scare him at all. But when she saw me, she ran off, quiet and quick despite her size. I had left the window open to keep Dylan cool in the muggy jungle, but I never left it open again after that. I guess, at the time, I was afraid of Lila hurting him, but after I left I realized what she was really doing, and it’s always made me wonder why.”

“You’ll probably figure it out someday.” Alex yawned and leaned into Doyle again, “You’re really comfy, you know that?”

“Yeah, even with my hard muscles.” Gently, Doyle took hold of Alex and helped him dress for bed, as he hadn’t finished when the redhead came in. One that was done, Doyle dressed for bed as well and then joined Alex in bed. As soon as he felt Doyle sit down, Alex latched onto him, sleepy yet happy to have the bigger man by his side. Doyle chuckled and then reached out to turn off the light.

“Acting like a koala tonight, huh?”

“Shut up and sleep.”

“Love you too.” Doyle kissed Alex on top of his head. Despite his anger at Alex for his missions and his many broken promises, Doyle knew that he could never stay angry at Alex forever, nor could he leave him. He had also thought about what would happen between the ex-spy and Dylan and hoped his son would truly warm up to Alex. Like Alex had said that day, he didn’t want to choose between his son and his lover. In fact, there really was no point to it, if anyone learned the truth. But he couldn’t tell them, not just yet, he couldn’t and it wasn’t because he was ashamed (which he wasn’t mind you). He couldn’t because he was worried about what would happen to himself and his son. If he had his way, he’d never tell the truth. But the ex-mercenary knew that that was impossible. One day, he’d have to tell Alex, Dylan, and his family. He hoped it didn’t come soon and that no one would be angry at him, especially since he had no control over it or any idea of it until it had happened. But only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Lila is the Rakshasa guardian of Kur's tomb, I imagine, but I could be wrong, as I don't remember where it was discovered in the show.
> 
> 2\. I know I haven't mentioned Zak a lot yet, but don't worry, he'll be seen soon.


	4. I've Been Living, But I Was Never Breathing

Zak was glad he was still small enough to fit in the vents, like Alex. He’d seen and heard everything and now felt conflicted. Doyle was getting ready to bring home his _cousin_ , who he’d never heard of before now, and Whitewell was back and asking for help. Zak still held a grudge against him for his previous actions, but he supposed that everyone needed help sometimes, even the bad guys. What mostly conflicted Zak, however, was telling others about what he’d found out. Doyle would obviously tell the rest of the family about his kid before he went and retrieved Dylan, wouldn’t he? And, though his mom and dad told each other not to tell Doyle about Whitewell, it was possible they might tell his siblings. Alex already knew because of his spy skills and curiosity, which Zak wished he had sometimes. Zak also knew he couldn’t keep these secrets forever, he’d be eaten up by them in no time. It was a good thing that almost no one could understand the cryptids for that reason. Drew and Doc could understand Zon, Fisk, and Komodo somewhat, but not to Zak’s extent. And the boy could probably tell Francis, too. He was an ex-agent, he was used to keeping secrets. This caused Zak to give a sigh, relieved that he didn’t have to keep it to himself.

 _There may be ‘no more secrets,’ but can’t we just help each other?_ he wondered, _I know everyone wants to protect everyone else, but sometimes it’s just better to share so we can fight together._ With this thought lingering, Zak began making his way to Francis’ room through the vents. He would’ve told his siblings first, but Francis was the only one he knew was in his room for sure. Zon had left a few minutes ago to fish, Komodo had left Doyle and Alex’s room, and he had no idea where Fisk was.

_And maybe Francis could tell me a little more about Dylan. He seems to know everything and it might help if I knew what the issue was with my cousin…_

* * *

“No, you listen! I-” There came a growl, “If you would just let me speak, I wouldn’t try fussing with you!” A snarl.

Alex blearily opened his eyes and squinted them against the sunlight. He felt around and found that Doyle was gone. Hearing another growl, he realized that the redhead was up already. But what was he doing? Alex rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the pillows for support. Doyle had somehow managed to convince him to at least wear something lighter than a jogging suit to bed, so now he had a tank top on, but that was as light as he was willing to go, so he still had the sweatpants on. His scars on his arms and shoulders were plain to see, but since it was just the two of them, he wasn’t too disturbed.

“Strawberry?” Alex yawned, glancing around. Doyle peeked his head into the room from the hallway, one hand covering part of a phone in his other hand. Already the ex-mercenary was dressed for the day, surprising Alex. The blond was usually the first one up out of the two.

“Sorry, sweetcheeks, trying to deal with something.” Doyle went back out into the hallway and hissed, “Fuck you! Let me talk to Darla or Oswald already!” Alex blinked, then laid down again.

“Too early to deal with this...” And so the ex-spy drifted back to sleep. It wasn’t long before someone was shaking him awake again and he growled.

“What?” he snapped.

“Al, c’mon and get dressed! I’ve finally got permission to go get Dylan!” Doyle’s face was bright and smiling. Alex stared at him, then rolled over.

“ _Allez-vous en_.” he said, “FYI, that’s French for ‘go away,’ so fuck off or I’ll punch you in the nose.” Doyle rolled his eyes.

“Seems someone is grumpy this morning. You were just fine earlier!”

“Ever heard of a bio-clock? If I don’t get enough sleep or too much, like starting another sleep cycle, I’m not in the best of moods.”

“Then you’ll hate me for this.”

“Wha-?” Before Alex could realize what was going on, Doyle had grabbed some of the sheets under him and pulled, causing Alex to fall on the floor. From his mouth came a litany of curses as Doyle took off at a run, where Alex chased after him. The Saturdays and Francis were already up by this time and watched as it happened, bemused.

“GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU! DAMN TRICKSTER!” Doyle ignored the threats and kept running, knowing that Alex was likely to make him hit the ground somehow if the blond caught up. It was not often when Alex got pissed, but when he did, it was better for you to hide and pray he doesn’t find you.

“At least it’s not my fault!” Zak chirped.

“It’s too early for this.” Francis groaned. He was not a morning person, if his head lying facedown on the kitchen table was anything to go by. A few minutes later, Alex walked into the room, rubbing his knuckles with a dark look on his face. Doyle was nowhere to be seen.

“Help him up and you’ll find yourself with a broken nose.” he snapped, grabbing a piece of bacon and popping it in his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Next time, wait your turn.” said Drew. She turned to the doorway when her brother walked in, rubbing his nose.

“At least it’s not broken.” he said to himself, then spoke to the others, “We’re going on a big trip today!”

“Not this early.” said Doc, feeling like Francis when it came to mornings, “Wait until nine at least.”

“No way, Professor. We’re going right after breakfast.”

“And where are we going, exactly?” asked Drew.

“To Canada. Gatineau, to be exact. We’re picking someone up.”

“Oh no no no, we’re not getting any of your old friends and helping them escape the authorities!” Doc raised his head from the table to glare at Doyle. The redhead rolled his eyes.

“That was one time. And no, it’s not like that.” He hesitated, nervous, then nodded and spoke again, “We’re going to pick up my son.”

“WHAT?!” Drew nearly dropped the frying pan and Komodo hissed in displeasure of not getting any eggs, “You have a son?!” The others who had no idea of this (Doc and Zon) were equally surprised.

“Yes, how is this so surprising to you?”

“But weren’t you so dedicated to Alex?” questioned Doc.

“Yes, and I didn’t get with anyone.”

“Then how? Did you adopt?”

“No.”

“You’re making no sense.” Drew said, “Either you adopted your son or had him with someone other than Alex.” Doyle gave an irritated sigh and rubbed his face, careful of his sore nose.

“Both are wrong. Look, can we just finish up breakfast and go get him?” he asked tiredly, “There’s a lot I can explain on the way over.” And so they did, much to Francis’, Doc’s, and Alex’s annoyance. When they took the airship over, Doyle explained to them where he had been living after leaving Alex, the generosity of his friend and living in the jungle, barely mentioning Dylan’s birth but explaining so much about raising him, and ending with how he had to give up his son. Even Alex and Francis had never heard Doyle talk so lovingly of anyone else like he had about his son, especially when raising him. He hadn’t even spoken of Alex in this way, which made Alex feel somewhat hurt but he brushed it off. This was Doyle’s son who he had been separated from for so long, he was allowed some lovey-dovey stuff, especially since Doyle wasn’t really the kind of person to be so excessive as this.

“Teaching him to walk was the best.” Doyle sighed as he thought back, leaning on the (new) bar as he told them things while they sat in the airship’s control room, “I got to lead him around everywhere and watch him take all these tiny steps and it was just so cute!” His smile dropped, “I just wish I’d gotten to see him grow up.” This would always happen after one of his stories, and so someone either had to cheer him up or get him to tell them another story, and eventually, they arrived in Gatineau before they knew it. As glad as he was to have arrived, Doyle was more nervous than ever. He had every right to be, but he pushed it aside and led his family out of the ship, knowing exactly where the orphanage was.

* * *

_“Why did you want to come here?” Van Rook complained, “There is nothing to do! No clients, no business, no money!”_

_“Fuck off, Van Rook.” Doyle snapped harshly, causing the older man to pause in surprise._

_“What was that for?!” Van Rook angrily asked,  “I have done nothing to you!”_

_“Then do you want me to throw you off this roof so I can get some peace and quiet?” Doyle’s voice was low but clearly full of malice and intent. Van Rook stayed silent. He was, however, curious at what Doyle was gazing at, so he tried to follow Doyle’s sightline (as best as he could with Doyle wearing his mask) and found that the redhead was looking at an orphanage across the street. At the backyard where children were playing, to be exact._

_“...You are here for the children?” Van Rook didn’t expect Doyle to answer and was surprised when his apprentice did._

_“Not all of them. Just one.” Van Rook looked around, trying to spot whomever Doyle could be looking at._

_“Do you wish to adopt?”_

_“No.”_

_“Then… Is your child in the orphanage?”_

_“Yes.” Van Rook turned back to Doyle, who hadn’t moved. He’d also heard the longing in the redhead’s voice._

_“Why?” The older man, if he ever had a child, couldn’t imagine giving them up, so how did Doyle manage it?_

_“I had to. I didn’t want him to live the life I have. I want him to be happy.”_

_“Is he?”_

_“Yeah.” Doyle nodded, “But I hope I can take him back soon.”_

_“How?”_

_“Well...” Doyle seemed hesitant as he turned to Van Rook, the first time he’d looked at the older man since they had arrived, “I need you to promise_ never _to tell anyone about him. If you do, I will hunt you down and kill you where you stand, among other things. Is that clear?” Van Rook was not a person to be spoken down to as if he was a pawn, but he could see the gleam in Doyle’s eyes that meant that he was very willing to make that a reality if Van Rook broke his trust. He’d thought his apprentice was just a hothead who had superhuman strength and a knack for stealing, but it seems there was a lot more to Doyle than he’d originally thought._

_“I promise.” said the older man, “I may be a mercenary, but I don’t break deals.”_

_“Good.” With his body still turned towards his teacher, Doyle looked over his shoulder, back at the orphanage, “His name is Dylan, and today’s actually his birthday. I know the caretakers of the orphanage and made a deal with them: If Dylan turns thirteen before I can bring him home, then he’s free to be adopted by anyone he wants. If I come before he turns thirteen, I can bring him home with me.”_

_“...That sounds selfish.”_

_“I know, but you can’t imagine how heartbreaking it was to give him up in the first place. And I_ know _I can make a better life for myself than this, and when I do, I can have him as my son again.”_

_“Then why are we here, if this isn’t the life you want for him?”_

_“To give him a birthday present.” Doyle stood straight and readied his jetpack, “You can stay here if you want, but I’m gonna go give him his present and a ‘Happy Birthday.’” Before Van Rook could say anything else, Doyle took off. The man watched as his apprentice landed in front of the orphanage and went inside, coming out to the backyard after a moment or two without anything Van Rook had given him, not even his mask, and walked over to a small boy that sat under a tree. The shade and the distance made it hard to tell what the boy looked like, but when Doyle greeted the boy and picked him up with a hug, Van Rook knew that that was Doyle’s son. Turning on the zoom feature in his mask, the man watched as Doyle took Dylan out of the shade, showing off the boy’s bright red hair, and Dylan brought Doyle to some of the other kids, probably Dylan’s friends. But then, the boy began waving his hands at Doyle, making weird gestures and such, his mouth not moving at all, and Doyle seemed to understand it as he spoke back to Dylan, and that was when Van Rook realized that there was one more secret the apprentice hadn’t told his teacher._

_Dylan was mute. Could be either that or deafness, but Van Rook was willing to bet on mute because Doyle seemed to be talking to the boy without the use of his hands. Or Dylan could somehow read lips better than most adults, but that was a long shot. Any way you looked at it, Van Rook couldn’t help but pity the child and his apprentice._

* * *

“This is it.” Doyle said, looking up at the orphanage, “Mother of Mercy in Gatineau, Canada.”

“Why this one?” Alex asked, a little curious, “You have friends here?”

“More than that.” The redhead continued to look at the sign with a thoughtful look on his face, as if thinking back, “Darla and Oswald Zapien run this place. I’ve known them for a long time, actually. First met them when I was a teenager and I’ve kinda kept in touch ever since. After Dylan, when I learned they had bought an orphanage for people like me, I knew this was the only place I could leave him.” There was a long pause.

“Well? Are we going inside?” Doc asked. He was anxious to get it over and done with and some questions answered, along with everyone else. The cryptids had been left at the house and it was just Doyle, Alex, Francis, and the Saturdays.

“I’m going in alone.” Doyle sighed, “He’s only known me and the orphanage. I don’t want him getting spooked with everyone immediately.”

“Good point.” Drew nodded, “But you will be telling us everything after Dylan gets settled in, got it?” The ex-mercenary smiled sadly.

“I know.” He went up the steps to the front door. He knocked on it and everyone held back as the door opened and a young woman looked out, frowning a little at Doyle. They conversed a bit before the redhead was allowed inside and everyone waited.

“Did you know anything about this?” Doc suddenly asked Alex. The blond shook his head.

“I didn’t know until we went down to the Amazon, to that little cabin. There was a whole _nursery_ in there.” Alex’s crossed arms tightened, as if he was holding onto himself, “Whatever went down, he clearly didn’t need me anymore.”

“Don’t say that.” Drew protested, “If he didn’t need you, why would he let you come back into his life?”

“It’s been thirteen years. It’s different now than it was then. I hurt him badly just by leaving.” Alex glanced at Francis, seeing the boy staring at him worriedly, “After he learned the truth, he had every right to push me away to the point he never wanted to see me again, and he did, but then he changed his mind. If anything, he shouldn’t have.” Alex averted his eyes from everyone, “I’ve done some terrible, terrible things. You only know some of the things I’ve done, you don’t know it all. I never should’ve gotten his forgiveness because I never earned it, never deserved it.”

“Of course you did.” Zak said, “The only other time I’ve seen Doyle happy with anyone was with Abbey. You make him so happy, even if you’ve done some bad things. Most everyone deserves forgiveness, even you.” Alex didn’t say anything in retort. The look in his eyes was clear that he didn’t believe the boy. Silence once again descended on the group, leaving them uncomfortable, and so Francis was the one to break it.

“When’s the wedding?” He hoped to take everyone’s minds off of Alex’s forgiveness issues. The ex-spy shrugged.

“Still haven’t decided. Doyle thinks we should have it soon, though, and I kinda agree. A summer wedding is not my idea of fun.”

“Well, neither is one in the middle of winter.” Doc added, “The place was freezing, even though the conditioner was as warm as it would go!”

“Or maybe because you just hate the cold, sweetie.” Drew shot back.

“I wouldn’t mind a cold wedding, honestly.” Alex admitted, “I mean, even as much as I say England’s not always cold, I guess I’ve just gotten used to it because I lived there so long.”

“But I guess we can only have one after this whole mess is over, right?” Zak asked, “After Dylan settles in and stuff?”

“Yeah, honey.” Drew rubbed his head, tussling his hair. Zak fixed it quickly, disliking having his hair moved so much. It was at the moment that the orphanage door opened and out came Doyle. He gave them a small wave before turning to speak softly to someone behind his back, now wearing a large backpack. He began taking the steps, his hand holding another, much smaller one, leading a young boy down the stairs. The boy was certainly younger than Zak or Francis but he looked close to their age. He had red hair and blue eyes like his father but the face was different, familiar and yet they couldn’t place it. The boy also hid behind Doyle, nervous and shy as he didn’t make a sound. The group tried to look as happy and inviting as possible, since it looked like the child would need it.

“C’mon, it’s okay, they’re good people.” Doyle told the child before turning to his family, “Guys, this is Dylan.” Dylan only peeked out from behind Doyle, frightened, but there was a trace of happiness hidden inside, clearly glad that he was able to go ‘home’ at last. There was also distrust, for only recently (the past year or two) had he heard of the Saturdays and even more recently of Alex. Alex was nothing new, but he harbored a grudge against the man he never knew for abandoning his father and he vowed to find out how Alex had managed to fool Doyle into loving him again, because to Dylan, it wasn’t right. Alex could feel said animosity and frowned a little, shifting on his feet. Already he could tell things weren’t going well, even if they seemed so on the surface.

“Hi there, nice to meet you. I’m Drew.” She was kneeling to be on the same level as Dylan, who was small for a boy his age. The boy only hid behind his father again. Doyle gently pulled Dylan out from behind him with one hand and put the child in front of him so that he could get to meet Drew, knowing this had to happen even if Dylan didn’t want to do it. The redheaded boy gave Doyle a dark look before waving a hand at Drew in greeting. Since they had seen him, Dylan hadn’t said a word. It made Alex and Doc suspicious. The blond sidestepped to Doyle’s side as Drew talked with Dylan, keeping the boy’s attention, and yet he could see the boy’s eyes following him as he moved around. Dylan was sharp, keeping his eyes on Alex the whole time.

“Why isn’t he talking?” Alex whispered to his fiancé. Doyle glanced at him but didn’t take his eyes off Dylan for long.

“I think you know why.”

“He’s deaf?”

“Close; he’s mute.”

“Oh.” Alex looked at Dylan, meeting the boy’s eyes. Dylan glared at him and Alex felt sorry for the boy, though he had little idea of why Dylan seemed to be mad at him.

“I know you saw the signing stuff.” Doyle quietly went on, “That’s not the worst of his problems.”

“Is that why it’s just the two of you, then?” Doyle glanced at Alex again.

“Not exactly.” Doyle knelt to Dylan’s side and nudged his son, “Well? Aren’t you gonna meet everyone else?” Dylan gave his father a withered look before stepping forward a little. Drew smiled disarmingly, hoping to help him feel calmer. Dylan ventured closer before holding out a hand and trying to smile, wanting only a handshake. Drew shook his hand and then Dylan was right back by Doyle’s side. The redheaded man sighed.

“Oh sweetie...” He picked Dylan up and held the boy against his hip, careful and practiced. Drew got up too as Doyle went on, “Dylan, this is the Saturdays, who I was telling you about.” He then pointed everyone out to his son and when he got around to Alex, Dylan was glaring at the ex-spy again and leaned into his father. Doyle caught on this and shared a look with Alex. Once everyone was introduced, Doyle kept Dylan in his arms as they made their way back to the airship, where Zak was trying to talk to the boy, telling him all about Fisk, Zon, and Komodo, who he’d get to meet when they got back to the house. Francis and Alex kept to the back of the group, Alex huddled in his jacket in silence. Francis glanced at him before keeping his head down. There was so much about Dylan he wish he didn’t know and he knew that Alex would get to learn, even though he knew Alex wasn’t going to particularly take it well. Especially when he learned Dylan’s origins.


End file.
